What is my fascination with peeling paint? Is it the texture, the light, the randomness of it all? Whatever it is, it called my name this weekend while visiting Cinque Terre. I have several pictures of peeling paint, mostly on doors. This wonderfully textured door is to our little private terrace for our apartment in Riomaggiore this weekend.
The interesting part of the terrace is that it wasn’t on the same floor as our apartment. We had to walk up a floor to get to it. It wasn’t locked but the gentleman renting us the apartment was very clear this was our private terrace. We found this immensely enjoyable because last fall, when my Mom and cousin Heather visited Cinque Terre, they told us a story of trying to go onto a terrace in their building, similar to this one, and being told, emphatically, “No balcony for you!” by the person renting them the room. They had just watched a man and his son go out on the balcony and nothing was said, so they didn’t understand why they couldn’t. Must have been a similar situation, but the story provided much humor for the rest of their visit. And, months later, for ours to Cinque Terre as well. We enjoyed the retelling of the story as we sat out on our balcony and looked over Riomaggiore.
Glad to hear YOU had a balcony!
Mom
I would like to chunk them off and mash them in my palm with my thumb.